She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. I don’t feel it. "We won't have any trouble understanding each other; same language. From one window the beach was always visible; from another, the stores. Rows of roasted duck, brilliantly varnished; luscious vegetables, which she had been warned against; baskets of melon seed and water-chestnuts; men working in teak and blackwood; fan makers and jade cutters; eggs preserved in what appeared to her as petrified muck; bird's nests and shark fins. ’ ‘Yes, it’s all my fault,’ he agreed soothingly, ‘and you may rail at me presently as much as you please. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen. ” “Yes, but you forget; how am I to live?” “Easily. She gave me an impression of a sort of patched quilt; little bits of patterned stuff coming up again and again.
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